Trick or treat?
Halloween, guys…when I was a kid, Halloween was the ultimate. You got to dress up, act a fool and get FREE CANDY. What is more appealing than free candy? As a kid, your whole life revolves around getting candy. There’s something in your DNA, I think. The week leading up to Halloween was so exciting. What would I be for that special day? When I was younger, I always wanted a store bought costume for some reason, but never, EVER got one. My Mom was a creative sort, so I was a princess, a ballerina, a football player (thanks to my brother and his exploits in the Pop Warner League), a mummy…and then as I got older, the costumes lacked the verve and snap of my earlier costumes…yep, I was a jazz musician–I was playing the trumpet then, so it was easy, a ghost and finally, an undercover cop. My candymania knew no boundaries, my friends. I was blatantly seeking candy. I wanted the goods.
“Ohhh, what are you?” (long pause as I explain my costume) “Well. That’s very inventive. Here’s your candy. Happy Halloween, honey!”
I met a lot of neighbors who fully understood my candylust. They fed it without question–with the exception of my friend Christine’s mom. She just said, ‘Give me a break. ‘ and gave me my three musketeers. The woman knew me only too well.
One of my fondest memories of my dad is when he phoned home to ask my mom if she needed him to bring anything back and when she told him to get extra candy, he came back with bags of sour balls.
My mother was livid. “Are you nuts? The candy isn’t wrapped, a kid could choke on it and we’ve been giving out chocolate. We’re gonna get pranked tonight!”
My dad’s response: “What kid don’t like a sour ball?”
Daddy was from the South. He grew up poor, so a sour ball was a real treat for him. Poor guy was hurt that Mom came down on him. Sour balls were cool as far as he was concerned.
I tell that story often. He was so cute and innocent, looking to me for confirmation.
“Of course, some of the colors aren’t good, but it’s candy, right honey?”
My response was to shrug and say, “Aww, Daddy…you did your best.”
Mom got in the car and drove to Cumberland Farms leaving Daddy and me with the sour balls. To make a joke, Daddy called Mommy a sour puss.
We giggled and sucked on our favorite flavors until she returned. With FULL SIZE candy bars. Daddy flipped out at the cost. Mom told him to hush up and have a sour ball. We had those things in the house until Easter.
Halloween, man. Good times.